


Lies and Secrets

by VeraIsAPlant



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Break Up, Lies, M/M, Romance, Secrets, Shi No Toge, Slingphries, Thorns of Death, Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 11:08:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3247427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraIsAPlant/pseuds/VeraIsAPlant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their relationship seems perfect, until Alan receives some news concerning him. Will their relationship be strong enough to take all these lies and secrets?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lies and Secrets

A staring contest. An _angry_ staring contest. That’s what this was. Pointless. Neither of both participants would ever win this. Two pairs of green-gold eyes staring at each other and only given time off when the other blinked. It was as if they were trying to stare each other to death, only, that couldn’t happen because they were… well, Death.

Both participants were angry, but both their eyes had this one shimmer of sadness. Sadness because something precious between them was over and neither wanted that to be true. Neither wanted to fully let go just yet. The problem was that one of the two was lying, and the other didn’t want to believe said lie.

A large hand combed through blond waves out of exasperation. Why did the man in front of him lie? Why was he the one to end whatever future they had together? He wasn’t about to let go, though, he’d fight for that future, the only future he wanted. And so he continued staring angrily at the small, brown haired man in front of him.

Small hands fiddled with the hem of a black jacket. Nervous and tired, that’s what he was. All that he wanted was sitting right in front of him, but the small man didn’t want to give in. He’d only hurt the Scotsman further if he gave in. That’s why he lied. That’s why he was still lying. He was getting nervous of how deep said Scotsman was looking into his eyes. He wanted to look away, but that would only prove that he was in fact lying. So he continued staring back angrily at the muscular, blonde man in front of him.

The Scotsman decided that he was done with this silent war. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

“Al, ye an’ I both know tha’ ye’r lyin’. Why dun ye just say what’s on yer mind, so tha’ this stupid starin’ contest can stop?” Eric asked, his Scottish accent laying heavy in his voice. Usually, he kept his accent on the background so that all his colleges could understand what he was saying, but whenever he got emotional or passionate, it would crawl out of the background and step into the full spotlight.

“I’m not lying, Eric.” Alan said, trying very hard to look and sound truthful –with success. “I just… I don’t know. I don’t feel what I felt for you in the beginning. It’s gone.” How these words hurt the small man. It was difficult for him to lace those words with power so that they would sound true, because they weren’t. In fact, Alan never stopped loving the Scotsman. He actually needed the man more than ever, but he was too afraid. He didn’t want to hurt the blond when his time came. Death couldn’t die unless Death got infected by a special disease, the only disease that could kill what was dead. And unfortunately, Alan was diagnosed with this disease better known as the Thorns of Death.

The brunet hadn’t told Eric yet, simply because he didn’t want him to know. Eric may look like a strong, muscular man –and he was, but he was also a very caring person who would do anything to for a loved one. Including stupid, reckless things to save the other. Knowing this, Alan had made the decision not to tell the Scotsman because he was afraid of what said man might do.

Eric let out a frustrated sigh. He was not getting anywhere with this! Why wouldn’t the brunet tell him what was on his mind? Why wouldn’t he tell him why he was lying to him?

“God damnit, Al! I can see it in yer eyes that those words hurt ye! Why do ye keep lyin’?! D’ye think I cannae handle the fuckin’ truth?!” He stood up in rage and let out a low growl.

“Ye know wha’, I’m tired of yer lies. When ye feel like tellin’ me the fuckin’ truth, do that. Otherwise, dun talk ta me.” With that, Eric walked out of Alan’s apartment, slamming the door close on his way out.

Alan swallowed hard, not having expected the outburst, even though he should have. Tears pricked in his eyes as he stared at the door. Why did he want to cry? It had been his own fault. Lately, he had been assigned on cases that later turned out to be hostile-soul-cases. He had had one too many hostile souls wrapped around him, and unfortunately, those had given him the Thorns of Death.

In his eyes, death was hurt, uncomfortable and a lot of pain. That, and loneliness. Every time he went on a reaping job and was looking at his next assignment he always wished that he could share their pain. He never understood said pain, though, but now he did. He finally understood after ending up with the disease. Now, even though he can’t share the feelings with them, he could at least feel a little closer to the dying.

A few days later, Alan showed up at work, looking a little paler than usual. He had suffered from an attack the day before, probably due to emotional stress. The attack had taken its toll, which lead to lower energy levels. There weren’t any reaps planned for him today, living him to his paperwork. He clocked in and took the lift to the third floor where his office was.

He hadn’t talked to Eric since their fight. He missed his best friend –and boyfriend, yet he couldn’t bring himself to telling Eric the truth. He would hurt the Scotsman eventually, by dying. He unlocked the door to his office, stepping inside and turning the lights on. It was a small square with a wooden desk in the middle, behind it a black, soft chair. The walls were two different shades of grey-white. In one of the corners stood a book case filled with books that covered subjects such as demonology, demons, angels, reapers, humans and sigils.

When the doctors confirmed he had the Thorns within him, he had looked for a cure or something to lessen the attacks with. There were no such things. The only thing he could do was trying not to get a lot of stress –physical, mental and emotional. There was, however, a fairy tale, a myth, proclaiming that if one were to reap one-thousand pure souls, the Thorns of Death would be cured.

Alan couldn’t bring himself to the task of killing one-thousand innocent humans, leaving him to wait until the Thorns decided to take away his life. That, and Alan didn’t believe said fairy tale.

The brunet sat down at his desk and took in the paperwork lying on his desk in a neat pile. Not one piece of paper was misplaced. _Probably Mister Spears’ work,_ Alan thought. His supervisor, William T. Spears, had a ‘mild’ case of OCD: everything had to be handed in on time, and it had to be done as neatly as possible. For some people, like Grell Sutcliff, that meant scribbles and lots of hearts and ‘I love William’’s, which caused said supervisor to give him overtime yet again. There were others, like Ronald Knox, who scribbled but somehow managed to avoid overtime.

He shook his head, smiling, while taking out a pen from one of the desk’s drawers and started working on his paperwork, filling everything in neatly so that Mister Spears wouldn’t give him overtime. He’d rather go home early and get some rest, instead of putting more stress on him, less he wanted another attack.

Around one o’clock in the afternoon, Alan straightened his back, hearing several pop’s coming out of it, and stood up. He hadn’t had a break since getting coffee at ten, and coffee and lunch sounded great to the brunet. He picked up the paper bag that held his sandwiches and went to the break room on the level he was at, and refilled his coffee mug. He leaned against a counter –glad to stand up for a while- on which he put his mug and his lunch, and took out a sandwich.

It was kind of lonely, having lunch without Eric. _Don’t think about it. It was your decision._ Alan reminded himself. Alan wasn’t one for public display of affection, but during lunch, the two of them would usually just talk and he would hear jokes with that lovely Scottish accent and-

Alan shook his head, trying to clear his mind off the thoughts. He took a big gulp of his coffee, almost burning his mouth because it was quite hot.

“Alan-senpai, you should be more careful!” came the voice of Ronald Knox, who just entered the break room to eat lunch himself.

“Hey, Ronald. Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” Alan apologized, giving the junior reaper a smile. Ronald looked the same as always; blonde hair that was dyed black at the bottom, the usual work outfit that contained black slacks, a white button up shirt, a black vest, jacket and tie –Ronald’s was tied, but always a little loose around the neck.

“Yeah, we all have those moments some times.” The young reaper said as he poured himself a coffee. “Oh, by the way, Eric-senpai said he wanted to talk to you. He didn’t give me much detail as to what he wanted to talk about. Just that it was a personal matter, and that you could find him in his office.”

Alan raised his eyebrow and looked questioningly at the blond-black haired reaper. Why would Eric want to see him? And more importantly; what personal matter would he want to talk about? The brunet had a gut feeling as to what Eric wanted to discuss with him. Alan swallowed hard. He hoped they wouldn’t be repeating the same fight they had had earlier this week.

Slowly, Alan nodded. “Thanks for letting me know, Ronald. I’ll go see him after lunch.”

“No problem.” After that the two reapers made small talk, mostly speaking about work, until Alan’s lunch break was over.

The small reaper took a deep breath before knocking on Eric’s office door. He heard a “come in” on the other side of the door, giving him the permission to open it –which he did.

“Ronald said you wanted to see me, Mr. Slingby?” Alan said, his voice a little more quite than he had wanted.

The blond Scotsman looked up from his paperwork as soon as he heard a knock on his door. He stood up and simply put his arms around the smaller man, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Alan couldn’t hide the surprised look on his face, and slowly returned the hug, taking in the feeling of being held by the strong man that he loved so dearly.

After what felt like an eternity, Eric let go and looked Alan straight in the eye. “Al, ya could’ve told me. Ya didnae have ta go through tha’ all alone. ‘m sorry, Al.”

His gut feeling had been right. Somehow, Eric found out about the Thorns.

“H-… How did you find out?”

“I read yer medical file. I should nae have done tha’, but I just didnae want ta lose ye like tha’. I love ye too much, to simply let ye go like tha’.”

“But… you have to. Let go. I’m dying. Slowly. No one knows how long I have left. Days, weeks, months? You’ll eventually end up getting you heart broken.”

“I dun care. I love ye, for as long as ye live, and even after tha’.” Eric said, closing the space between them as he pressed his lips on Alan’s, kissing him gently. The blond vowed to himself that he would find a way to save Alan. He would find a cure. He would commit any sin, just to save him.

And that ended up being exactly what the Scotsman had to do. The last couple of weeks, he had been reading books on subjects like reaper diseases –he found zero to nothing in that, and eventually got to reading a book containing myths. There, he found that there was a myth that the Thorns of Death could be cured if one were to reap a thousand pure souls. It was said that, if the thousand pure souls were presented, the Thorns would take those instead of the carrier, and would remove themselves from said carrier for good.

Having lost hope in finding a cure, Eric changed his mind set. He would do this for his best friend –and boyfriend. He had to save Alan, even if it meant reaping a thousand innocent souls behind said reaper’s back.


End file.
